


Watered Troubles

by wondrously_mekt



Category: DC Animated Universe, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: An old short I found, In which Diana showers her troubles away, showering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondrously_mekt/pseuds/wondrously_mekt
Summary: Diana's had a long day, with such comes the aftermath and thoughts that follow suit.





	Watered Troubles

“ Water...it makes us feel that….our worries….and sorrows...can simply be washed away….even if for a moment”

 

Blood, the source of life clung to her like a second layer of skin. Thick, dirty and impure. It made her cringe to the very core. Not because of its feel or how it now adorned her body to the very toes, but simply due to its origins. Each splatter had come from an individual, a person a story and life cut down due to a wrong path or dire need to survive or keep others fed. 

Piece by piece nimble hands removed what most saw as accessories, her tiara, given to her by her mother to represent her royal title and protect her if necessary. She makes her way towards a room she had subconsciously begun to seek for comfort. Her boots, each hitting the well kept tiles of her apartment with a distinct thud. With each step she comes closer eyes focused upon the door before her, so welcoming yet also a reminder of why she was now barefooted and removing her bracelets. 

Those special bracers forged of Zeus’ metal that had saved her life many times. Dropped, clinking to the ground as if worthless, their shine nearly fully obscured by dried blood which made her passing reflection filter to crimson. A small gleam beaming off the metallic objects, meaningless now but powerful later. She could care less for it now.

Azure irises become clouded, ironically a build up of liquid threaten to stream down heated skin. Even through her face is serene, seemingly unaffected. The soft padding of her steps comes to a halt near the door her trembling hand reaching towards it with caution, as if afraid to touch the reflective metal of the knob. Her image altered by the shape, she looks taller than she truly is. Is this what those who died at her hand saw? When she stood above them, the very image of an amazon fury, sneer present and battle cry heard, her lasso or sword milliseconds from taking their life. She swallows and eyes flutter in an attempt to banish the imagery from her mind, cringing at her own reflection, blood splatter tarnishing her face. The edges of once bright lips now tugged hesitantly downwards.

She dared not turn towards the mirror, provoked by emotions she’d barely surpassed when outside the room. Glancing from the sight of her outfit to the shower she now takes a breath. Stepping forth to choose beyond punishment or relief. Each nob representing two sides of her, cold. The warrior, merciless able to take a life without hesitation if doing so worked in favor of her mission, unflinching. Warmth, the hero, companionship and compassionate able to understand two sides of an argument and forgive those lost in wrong.

To have not punishment nor relief she must adjust both to her liking and benefit of her surroundings. The water courses up the piping in the wall with noises emerging from the small tiles before the shower head finally choked back the water and then reluctantly give in and let it fall freely. Into the shower she stepped, almost needingly as her right hand closed the curtain behind her. 

Soon both hands formed a makeshift cup and gathered the soothing liquid to then splash it over her troubled features. The water soon began to trickle down her cheeks to her jaw gathering in some areas to drip down to her chest where her raven tresses had settled to seemingly protect her naked body as best they can from the element it was just exposed to. Below the water, held a light red hint yet rippling away into places unknown. Away, if only. She ran the smooth surface of a soap bar against her unbroken skin only to feel as if the heat of that cursed layer of dead life was etched into her skin. 

Dark eyebrows furrow with time as her hands move over each curve, each muscle, and crease. By now, the water is clear as it streams down her body to her toes. Who was she to take life? What gave her the right? The sword that she had thrown onto her couch? Perhaps the famous lasso which gave her the advantage of truth? It now hung over the edge of her sink, all but forgotten. Who heard their pleads for help? God? Or goddesses? Men of power? 

It seemed as if thousands of drops now fell onto the woman who sat on one corner of the shower with each sound, and feeling they caused helped to further the Amazon's thoughts. Murderer or hero, there are times when the two seem one and the same. The life she and her colleges lead are not all roses and admiration. There are several people wiling to claim the hero's actions are abuse. Of will or power it’s unclear. It is clear however, they are afraid more times than not. 

Azure spheres slowly move to stare at the wall before her knowing death was never to be taken lightly, whether it was that of a thug or of a child. Within their eyes they are the main character, this is their story. At times it makes her the hero but in others the executioner, a reaper of sorts. This, she has no control of. Many times she has been in this same position, arms around her knees as her eyes once again regain life and meaning. Her legs slowly spreading out like roots before helping her stand with each hand resting on a knob to turn them in unison. 

Flash forwards in time only a few seconds and she is looking into a mirror wrapped in a towel as her hands free her long ebony strands from their previous hold. This is who she is, no warrior nor hero. As the woman she is, Diana, seeking to bring to this world not her own, what many have attempted to bring before her. Peace, equality, and justice. She does not choose who lives or who dies, they do so themselves with each choice they make, each word and action they take. So she will wash away the blood and keep the burden of death. If it means the world will be better because of it, she will take those few moments of doubt and questioning. Those of false accusation and punishment. Staring in her reflection and at the blue irises that expand and adjust in the center, she knows…..It's what she is, who she is.

 

“ Water...it makes us feel that….our worries….and sorrows...can simply be washed away….even if for a moment”

Though perhaps one day water...won't have to...


End file.
